Son of Shego
by Bane of All the World
Summary: Kim Possible has saved the world time and time again from power hungry master minds. But has she really seen the worst humanity has to offer? An unwanted vigilante with a dark past will disturb our heroine's notions of true evil and blur the lines between right and wrong, monster and man. In the end, we must all come to our own conclusions.
1. Scorn of the Savannah

First, I want to say that I am a Kim/Ron supporter all the way. But I had an idea for this storyline, so I thought I would give it a try. This is set halfway between _Sitch in Time_ and _So the Drama_. I don't own the characters, et cetera et cetera.

Chapter 1: Scorn of the Savannah

The low, almost circular building was little more than a hastily thrown-together timber bunker with a thatch door, but none of the occupants cared. Miles away from the nearest village, hundreds of miles away from the nearest modern town, a half dozen men sat around a cluster of tables, shouting and smoking and laughing and, without cessation, calling for another drink from the man behind the makeshift bar.

In a country with no economic growth, no stable government, overwhelming corruption, and rampant racism, they had done what was necessary to secure a good living for themselves and their families. Now they had more food than they could eat, a handgun apiece, a steady supply of hard liquor, and their smuggling racket made enough for them to bribe the authorities and walk away with money in their pockets. Families, either dead for years or abused, no longer held their primary concern. The taste of luxury sang on lips once cracked by poverty, and the greed of human nature had befallen them, as it does so many billions.

Most people in the African savannah knew about the secluded compound and avoided it all costs. So the men celebrating their good fortune were more than a little surprised to see a white boy in his late teens walk through the door and stroll up to the bar. The door swung shut behind him. Had he been armed they would have shot him in panic, but his ratty t-shirt, perhaps dark blue at one time, concealed even less then his perforated pants. His old sneakers were caked with dust, vicious acacia thorns broken off in odd parts of the shoe. The young man limped to the bar just as everyone trained their weapons on him.

*{Drop to your knees!}* One man shouted. He stood at the head of the others, several inches wider at the shoulder and at least an inch taller than the next largest man in the room. He held a glock and a beretta in either hand. The young man turned to face him, leaning against the bar as he did so. The bartender put the barrel of his gun to the young man's head. The youth offered a tired smile, tilting his head slightly to shift bangs out of his yellow eyes.

*(translated from the local dialect)

{Sorry to intrude,} the young man responded in a tenor lighter than most boys his age. {I've been wandering the savannah for a week. Is this the Watanoaka outpost?}

{Why do you ask?}

{I came here looking for it.}

{Then you came looking for a death wish. No man can just walk into Watanoaka. Not if he wants to live.} The young man smiled. His interrogator couldn't help but notice how his amber eyes gleamed, framed by skin long tanned from the sun.

{Then this IS the Watanoaka outpost?} He asked.

{Yes.} His soon to be executioner responded. {And it is the place where you will die.} He cocked the beretta.

{I don't suppose I could get a drink and smoke first?} The young man said quickly. {Walking in the sun all day can really take it out of you.} The men laughed at this thin child and his wry requests. Why not humor the dead? The leader put his glock away and motioned for the bartender to pour him a drink. The young man downed the rum in three smooth gulps, ignoring the dirt clinging to the glass. He took a cigarette from the bartender, but the leader stopped the bartender from giving him the lighter.

{I was not born yesterday,} he said, waving the beretta in the boy's face. The boy shrugged and sunk lower against the bar, whether from tiredness or fear the leader could neither tell nor cared. He flicked the lighter and moved to light the cigarette when the young man spat the rum held in his mouth in a practiced stream, through the tiny flame and onto the larger man's chest and neck. He stumbled back into his friends, screaming as the flames rapidly began to consume the dry, worn threads.

In their moment of distraction the young man swiped the lighter, smashed his glass into the bartender's face, and hurled the bottle of liquor over his shoulder into the crowd of men. The young man leapt up and swung both legs in an arc, smashing into the bartender's face as he leapt behind the bar. One, two brutal blows to the face, and the bartender passed out. Flattening himself on the ground, the young man stuck a rag from the bar into a bottle of liquor, tilting the bottle down to soak the rag. He heard footsteps approaching. A man leaned over the counter and pointed a gun at him, but the boy struck first. Sweeping his own stolen gun in an arc he knocked the older man's weapon aside and smashed a bottle of rum into his face. His assailant fell back with a cry, but the youth didn't stop to celebrate. Lighting the rag, he tossed the molotov cocktail over the bar, bottle spinning end over end for a grand total of three seconds before it burst against a table.

It had been some months since the last rain storm, and the timber and grass for the hut had been dry when it was gathered more than two years ago. So it was no surprise that the table was completely ablaze in seconds, filling the room with smoke. A second cocktail made with a strip of T-shirt spun over the bar, and one panicky man shot it, obscuring the bar in a starburst of smoke and fire that licked the low thatch ceiling. The young man leapt through the burst of light and heat, swinging a chair into the man's head so hard the chair broke into four pieces on impact.

The next twenty seconds were a mad rush of breaking furniture and fists flying through the fire's haze as flames sprinted across the walls of the tinderbox they once called sanctuary. The young man darted everywhere among them, each blow breaking a finger or nose or tooth or arm or kneecap. The room, once a cozy place of safety to the men of Watanoaka outpost, had become a death trap, too small for them to avoid or shoot their assailant. Bullets were fired, and one even grazed the young man's thigh, but they tended to hit each other and the walls more than anything else. Wielding his captured gun like a baton, the young man drove the butt of his weapon into the leader's kneecap and jerked it up into his face as he doubled over, then brought it down on the back of his head before swinging it around into another's temple. Soon the burning hut had only one man left standing, his gaze hot like the flames around him as he surveyed his victims. Six men down, broken, disarmed, and without a scrap of fight left in them. No fatalities.

The young man allowed himself a quick smirk before he collected the other guns, pausing to kick or strike anyone who tried to resist or speak, shooting his own weapon around their head if they made a threatening move. One by one he emptied the bullets into a heap at the base of the bar and doused them in alcohol. He stuck a broken chair leg into the burning table and dropped his new torch on the ammunition. In all likelihood the bullets wouldn't explode, but the heat would definitely deform them or at least make them too hot to touch. He paused to spit on the fire, curling his lips at the combined taste of rum and tobacco in his mouth.

Kicking out the door, the young man let the building smoke rush out as he crossed the outpost to a two story wooden stockade, bound with a half dozen chains and locks. He snorted, lips curling into another smirk. The people trapped in the stockade had already prepared themselves for the worst when they had been captured. They knew what happened when you were snatched from your homes or off the road. Their lives were no longer their own. But that did not mean that they didn't start to cry in fear when they heard the gunshots. Nor did it prepare them for a loud _Sshhink!_ to sound from behind the doors or for the man barely out of boyhood who threw the doors open with the light of battle in his leopard-yellow eyes.

{Go home.} The young man ordered. {You need no longer fear the men of Watanoaka.} He stepped aside, and they slowly realized that their nightmare was over. Never had the sun shined as bright or the breeze blown as cool as it did to the sixty odd people that streamed out of the stockade, fearful gazes flowering into laughter and exclamations of joy. At that moment the kidnappers dragged themselves from the burning hut, and the prisoners froze in fright.

{Go back to your pen!} One of the abductors yelled after a moment of surprise. A few of the prisoners edged back to the corral, but the young man stepped forward, eyes hard.

{You have no more power here.} The young man derided him, voice hard and fierce. {These people are free, and if you try to imprison them again I will beat you into the earth.} The gang of human traffickers had heard worse threats, but never before had sixty people yelled in support of one and charged them.

{Stop.} The young man yelled quickly. {Do not kill them.} Leaping between the prisoners and their captors, he bellowed like a wounded buffalo. The prisoners paused in their rush for vengeance. {I freed you, and I ask for but one thing in return: do not kill these men.} The crowd shouted its outrage, but he roared over them, undeterred. {Is death really enough for these men? Do they deserve such a deep and peaceful sleep? Bind their hands and throw them into the grasslands if you wish. Let them wander the scrub in fear that they might meet you again without weapons or jeeps.} He continued to speak to the crowd, appealing to their sense of vengeance and mankind's natural fear of the untamed wild, painting scenes of the slavers death. He spoke of divine retribution for an act of rage and the terror of helplessness in the face of infection by day and predation at night until the prisoners screamed with approval and rushed the bloodied slavers, pinning them down while others ran in search of rope.

Satisfied that there would be no corpses in the next few minutes, the young man did a quick inventory of the compound. He sorted through a few thousand pounds of black market animal parts: leopard skins, elephant tusks, rhino horn, crocodile hide, lion bones (no doubt to be sold in asian markets as tiger bones), hippo meat, and piles of zebra pelts. A few smaller pieces of ivory had been exquisitely carved, and these he took to barter with. The rest he doused with kerosene from a supply shed. He also burned down a shed of assault rifles, grenades, plastic explosives, and rocket launchers, which made a very satisfying boom.

After checking that the slavers had had their hands tied as the liberated captives drove them into the grassland per his suggestion, the young man walked to an acacia tree just outside of camp, where the Watanoak sentry slowly rotated, arms stretched above his head. A monitor lizard sat beneath him, no doubt debating whether or not he was worth eating, but it ran off when the young man approached. The young man hoisted himself into the tree and undid the belt belt that bound the sentry's wrists to the branch. He fell to the ground with a dull thud, moaning as he started to wake up. The young man crouched in front of him, ears pricked in case the monitor lizard came back, and lightly slapped the sentry a few times. The slaver awoke to the cold edge of his own knife pressed against his throat.

{Now,} the young man said, voice as soft as his eyes were hard, {where can I find a good forger?}

 ** _CallMeBeepMeIfYouWantToReachMeCallMeBeepMeIfYouWantToReachMe_**

Kim Possible sat down for her Friday environmental science class in good spirits. Granted environmental science wasn't her fav, but it wasn't a bad class, and it was one of the few not taught by Mr. Barkin. After a successful mission in Bolivia that morning, she felt up for anything.

"Ok, listen up class," barked a familiar voice. Kim's good spirits dipped a bit as the almost inhumanly wide shoulders and puffed chest of Steve Barkin pushed through the doorway. "Mr. Leopold contracted rabies while feeding squirrels in his backyard, so I will be taking over this class."

"Uh, Mr. Barkin," Ron Stoppable, Kim's best friend of nearly twelve years, raised his hand. "Is there any class that you haven't taken over?"

"Probably," Steve Barkin asserted, eyelids half lowering in natural suspicion toward his least favorite student. "But if there is I have yet to hear of it. And it has been a very long time since I saw anyone else in the teacher's lounge." He admitted quietly. Ron turned to Kim with a triumphant smile.

"Booyah," he exclaimed. "Told you he was the only one."

"Ron," Kim began to chastise him.

"Alright, enough chitchat." Barkin commanded. Kim made a mental note to discourage Ron's latest crazy theory after class. "I am told that the focus of this class is current environmental issues, preferably ones that are apolitical. Since I couldn't find any of those, we will instead watch a news report that I recorded this morning." Mr. Barkin turned on the overhead projector and started the video.

The report was about a new species discovered in the Amazon Rainforest, a previously unidentified species of cat. The report showed live footage of the two creatures in a cage in Belgium, where the scientist who discovered them had had them shipped. Kim had faced down her fair share of mutants and monsters, but these cats were impressive even by her standards.

Compact bodies rose at the shoulder to a swell of muscle. Thick tails swished and thumped against the bars as the beasts alternately crouched and arched their backs, spines brushing the top of the cage. Each one was the size of a black bear, smooth black coats rippling with darker spots like a mirage. Most disturbingly, their broad skulls ended in a pair of short saber teeth that came down to their chins. The reporter stated that preliminary testing had shown signs of a potent hemotoxin in their saliva, similar to the kind found in vampire bats.

After the video Barkin talked about why there were still new species to be discovered, how many more might be in the Amazon, and asked a few questions about deforestation. When the bell rang for the end of the day Barkin assigned the class a three page report about sustainable commercial logging. Ron got an extra two pages for dozing off in class. As Ron followed Kim to her locker with the usual slew of complaints against Barkin, she heard the familiar beep pattern of the Kimmunicator in her pocket.

"What's the sitch Wade?" Kim asked as the screen blinked on.

"Got a mission for you." Wade, Kim's 10 year old website manager and intel provider responded.

"Drakon?"

"Not this time. A few days ago a pair of sabertooth cats was discovered in the Amazon Rainforest."

"We just saw the report in class today." Kim told him.

"Well the scientist that discovered them, Dr. Panthera, thinks that someone might try to steal them before ownership and credit for the sabertooths are passed over to him tomorrow." Wade said.

"Why would anyone want to steal cats?" Kim asked.

"The hemotoxin in the saliva has some major juice," Wade said. "Check it out." Wade pressed a button, and a rotating image of a molecule appeared on the screen. Ron looked over Kim's shoulder at the picture.

"Uh huh, let's pretend that I don't know what this means," Ron suggested.

"The hemotoxin is more powerful that any blood thinner I've ever seen," Wade said, taking the molecule off the screen. "A few drops could kill a person."

"So Dr. Panthera thinks that someone might want to weaponize the toxin?" Kim asked.

"That, or the cats might be genetically engineered," Wade said. "In which case I'm betting the guy who made them will want them back before anyone gets a chance to study them."

"We're on our way," Kim promised.

"Got your ride waiting outside," Wade told her, smiling.

"Booyah, Belgian chocolate!" Ron cheered. Rufus, Ron's naked mole rat, popped out of his pocket and pumped both his little arms in the air.

"Mmm, chocolate," Rufus echoed. Kim smiled, thoroughly accustomed to the sight.

"Come on you two," she said, walking toward the exit. "If we wait around too long you won't have time for chocolate."

"Kim, there is always time for chocolate," Ron said, voice dropping to serious calm as he jogged to catch up to her.

 ** _CallMeBeepMeIfYouWantToReachMeCallMeBeepMeIfYouWantToReachMe_**

"Thanks for the lift, Dr. Acari," Kim said over the drone of the plane as it landed.

"Oh, it's the least I could do after you recovered my stolen research," the entomologist said.

"Three times," Ron chimed in. "That's a lot of bugs for one lifetime."

"No big," Kim dismissed the praise with a smile.

"Well, except for the small explosive device attached to your face," Ron offered.

"Keyword, small," Kim reminded him. "Have a nice day, Dr. Acari."

"Oh, we're not parting ways just yet," Dr. Acari said, swinging his stubby legs out of his seat and hoisting his suitcase. "Dr. Panthera is a dear friend of mine. He personally invited me to come to the formal exhibition tomorrow. I thought I could introduce you to him."

The diminutive man smiled so wide that Kim almost wanted to laugh at his enthusiasm. A half hour later and the three of them were standing outside of a museum, smooth concrete walls tinged pink by the setting sun. A tall, very thin man in a cheap suit fast-walked down the stairs to meet them, his bald head reflecting the russet light.

"Dr. Acari, so good to see you," the bald man exclaimed, shaking the entomologist's hand with both of his stick arms.

"It's good to see you too, Dr. Panthera," Dr. Acari beamed. "Allow me to introduce Ms. Kim Possible." Dr. Panthera shook Kim's hand so vigorously she thought he might be trying to remove it.

"So good to meet you, Ms. Possible."

"Please, call me Kim." Dr. Panthera turned to Ron.

"And you must be—"

"Ron, Ron Stoppable, pleasure to meet you," Ron interrupted, grabbing Dr. Panthera's hand and waving it up and own.

"Yes, well, please, come with me." Dr. Panthera led the group into the museum. He bypassed all the exhibits and brought them to a small staff only door that led into a warehouse. Rusted girders arched more than sixty feet over their head as they walked between towering shelves overflowing with excess specimens and artifacts. "I'm the museum's resident zoologist," Dr. Panthera explained. "I was conducting a study on ocelots when I found these by accident." The last seventy feet of the warehouse were shelf-less. Wooden crates had been piled around the edges to make room for a wheeled cage pushed against the back wall.

Kim was prepared for fierce monsters straining against the bars as soon as they saw her. Instead she found two animals lying with their heads on their paws, scruffy fur starting to matt. The cage was just large enough for them to crouch next to each other. A water dish had been tipped over in the corner, and the air around them had a mild arid reek of stale urine to it. The cats didn't move except to glare balefully at the group, tucking their legs as far beneath their bodies as they could. The scene was thoroughly depressing.

"Aren't they just fascinating," Dr. Panthera exclaimed.

"Dr. Panthera, are you sure this is the only way you can keep them?" Kim asked, a little alarmed.

"Don't worry, this is only temporary," Dr. Panthera assured her.

"It's wrong is what it is," Ron corrected. "The lions at Smarty Mart have bigger cages than that."

"Yeah," Rufus chirped from Ron's shoulder, folding his arms and scowling suspiciously at Dr. Panthera.

"We already have a zoological garden in France lined up to take them after the exhibition tomorrow." Dr. Panthera said. "This is just until after the presentation tomorrow. After that a Global Justice operative has arranged a safe transport to the zoological garden and the two of you can return home."

"So, all we have to do is stay in a locked room alone at night and guard two poisonous buck-toothed super cats from dangerous thieves?" Ron surmised, voice straining slightly as got nervous.

"Ho, no," Rufus groaned with a slump.

"Ron, it's fine," Kim said a little sternly. Then, more gently, "We've faced plenty of bad guys before. We'll just sit around until the meeting tomorrow and get you that Belgian chocolate in the morning." Ron perked up instantly. "Trust me, this'll be a piece of cake."

 _ **CallMeBeepMeIfYouWantToReachMeCallMeBeepMeIfYouWantToReachMe**_

The young man allowed himself his namesake smirk as local authorities stormed a low concrete building across the street, dragging the forger out in handcuffs, the carved ivory he had just bartered with for an American passport and airfare money carried off as evidence. The young man studied the passport, thoroughly pleased with the photoshopped picture that gave him blond hair, brown eyes, and paler skin, all easily explained discrepancies. He almost felt sorry for getting that forger carted off. He did good work. No one in customs would suspect who he really was. The youth slipped down an alley, hiking three miles outside of the city to the jeep he had taken from Watanoaka two days ago.

As he bumped along the road, the young man reflected on the fascinating story the forger had told him, a tidbit of gossip that had instantly changed the young man's plans. It was time to check up on an old friend. Next stop, Belgium.

For those of you waiting for the epilogue to my Teen Titans story, I have some disappointing news: While transferring files to my new computer, I lost the epilogue and am now rewriting it. Sorry for the ridiculous delay.


	2. Sparks

"Do you mind if I sit with you?"

The young man glanced up at the smiling blond who had disturbed his ruminations. He set his glass of water on the latticed café table. It had been some time since his last cup of coffee, but he had learned to stick with fresh water whenever available. Just as he had learned how easily people could be fooled with a change of clothes, a shave, and a thorough wash. The woman in front of him was a perfect example.

"I'm just a little tired," the woman continued as she took the opposite chair, evidently taking his pause as a yes. "Jet lag, you know." She clutched her latte in both hands and leaned over slightly to reveal a greater portion of her cleavage. Once the young man would have assumed she was unaware of this, but he had learned better. An old stab wound echoed with a phantom throb, reminding him never to underestimate a woman's ability to manipulate.

"I just came in from _Africa_ , of all places," she swept on with a bright smile. The young man's slight, thoughtful frown was marred as the corner of one lip twitched. When he had sat down next to this very woman on the plane ride over she had huffed and sniffed and made a big display of being offended by his distressed clothes and ripe smell, courtesy of Watanoaka and the savannah. All it took was twenty minutes in the airplane bathroom for an almost unrecognizable man to emerge from the plane. Water, paper towels, a clean T-shirt, and a jacket really did work wonders.

The young man stood and finished his water with two long, smooth swallows before carefully setting the glass back on the table. The woman was a touch taller than him in her heels, but something in his posture made her nervous. He smiled, but it wasn't a warm expression. Sharp teeth barely peeked between lips ravaged with burns. The expression in his eyes wasn't teasing or predatory or excited like she had expected. It was dismissive.

"Thank you, but I prefer the company of less shallow women," he nearly purred before striding away toward the Museum of Natural History.

 _CallMeBeepMeIfYouWantToReachMeCallMeBeepMeIfYouWantToReachMe_

Kim put her chin in her hand and sighed, shifting to get more comfortable on the crate she had chosen for a chair. It was after midnight in Belgium, and she was officially bored. With all her homework done and Ron sleeping for the past hour, she was kept awake more by stuborness than anything else. She chanced a glance at the saber tooths in their cage. All she could see were flashes of light from their eyes. She sighed. Morally she wasn't one hundred percent on board with this one, but she had taken worse assignments. At least the mission was proving uneventful. Later she would kick herself for daring to think that as the roof exploded, showering concrete onto the floor below. The sabertooths sat up with a pair of growls, hackles rising.

"Unh – ah – I'm awake," Ron sputtered, sitting up straight and managing successfully open one eye and half open the other. Rufufs scrambled out of his lap to stand on his knee, rubbing his tiny eyes, then gasping when he saw the tell-tale red uniform of Drakon's men sliding down ropes from the whole in the ceiling. A hovercraft descended into the room. Kim glared at the man and woman who leered at her from the craft, leaping to her feet.

"Drakon," Kim addressed the college dropout, fists raised in a ready stance.

"That's Doctor Drakon to you, Kim Possible." The blue-skinned scientist placed his usual emphasis on the i's in her name and jabed a finger at her.

"Did babbysitting pay so little that you had o take up catsitting?" Shego asked, smirking down at the red-head.

"Better than being Drakon's errand girl," Kim shot back. Shego glowered and leapt to the floor, ignoring the ropes. Her lean frame and sharp green and black patterned suit made her stand out like a poisonous blossom among the out of shape henchmen.

"With the DNA of those saber-tooth cats, I can produce chemical weapons so potent, the world will be forced to bow before the might of Dr. Draken!" Draken shouted, pointing his finger in the air. Instantly the far side of the room exploded. Draken instinctively ducked down. Shego's head whipped around to face the new threat. The sound of many running feet filled the air…and lasted for nearly two minutes before a group of bulky men in grey uniforms led by a stout, yellow-skinned man half their size pattered into view, panting from the long run.

"Dr. Dementor?" Ron asked aloud, recognizing the bucket-shaped helmet.

"Yes…it is I…oh, oh, whooo…Dr. Dementor!" The diminuitive German wheezed, voice rising in volume and accent as he spoke. "And with the DNA of those saber-tooth cats, I will produce chemical weapons of suck magnitude, ze world vill 'ave no choice but to submit to my rule." The sabertooths snarled, back legs rattling the cage.

"Hey, wait a minute," Draken said. "That's similar to my plan. No fair, I called dibs on the cat-chemical-weapons plan!"

"Yeah, sorry dude, have to go with the blue-man on this one," Ron agreed. "He was here first."

"Ron," Kim chided.

"I will not be denied!" Dementor cried, raising a lemon-colored fist.

"Ok, whoa there boys, time out." Shego made a T with her hands. "I know that everyone here is notoriously bad at sharing."

"Hate it." Draken agreed.

"It is part of the job." Dementor conceded.

"But in case you've forgotten, Kim Possible is right there." Shego pointed a sharply-pointed finger at the teen in question. "So how about we hold off on the hissy fight until after we've squashed the cheerleader and stolen the cats."

"Well, I do hate Kim Possible even more than sharing," Draken said with a smile.

"Then it is settled," Dementor said in a much more pleasant tone. "We will destroy Kim Possible and then fight each other."

"Indeed," Draken chimed in.

"Uh oh," Rufus gulped. Kim didn't say anything, but she shared the rodent's sentiment.

"This just got a whole lot more serious." Ron commented, paling as the two mad scientists turned on them. Suddenly a crate burst and one of Dementor's burly men screamed, vanishing into the crate.

"You have no idea." The speaker emerged from the crate, the unconscious goon slumping over behind him. He was about Kim's age with non-descript jeans, sneakers, and a black T-shirt. His brown hair was a long, shaggy mess that would appall Monique. His wiry body was so lean Kim thought he was the human equivalent of a protein bar. The larger sabertooth went nuts, roaring and half-rearing, tail whipping and curling like a rope in the wind.

"Who are you supposed to be? Kim Possible's backup?" Shego asked, ridicule lacing her words. The young man smiled, walking into the light, and even Shego took a step back. His arms and neck were covered in burns and slash marks. More scars marred his face. His yellow eyes all but glowed in the dim light.

"Officially, I'm just here to make sure an old friend gets home safely. When Kim Possible showed up I decided to watch and wait. Unofficially…" He paused and turned those eyes on Kim. A jolt ran down Kim's spine when she met his sharp gaze. "That remains to be seen."

"Who do you think you are?" Draken demanded. The young man smirked, his sharp features making the expression almost feral.

"A vigilante."

After that all hell broke loose. The new guy hurled himself at Dementor's minions, fists and feet flying as he struck among them.

"Shego!" Draken yelled. Shego made a beeline for the cage. Kim hurled herself at the other woman. Right as Kim was about to reach her Shego whipped around, her iron calf catching Kim just under the arm with a spinning kick. Pain flared in her side, but Kim pinned the leg between her body and arm and rolled with the force, flipping Shego over. The familiar noises of Ron screaming, the Doctors yelling, and beam weapons firing provided a familiar background track. Shego shot forward, pulling back her arm and striking at Kim the moment she was in range. Kim crossed her arms and blocked the blow a good six inches away from her chest, took a half step back and kicked at Shego's head. Shego ducked and swiped – a near miss.

The two women fell into their familiar sparring pattern, each trying to strike the moment they came in range, constantly dodging backward with an acrobatic flip or steadfast block, rolling ten feet away when space was needed. Kim noticed that Shego seemed to have improved a little after a particularly hard punch slipped past her block, bruising her collarbone.

"Dr. D, get the cats and get out," Shego yelled, forcing Kim to retreat away from the cage with a punch and a leg sweep. "I'll keep litlle miss – oof!" Shego broke off as the new guy leapt in and landed one in the side of her ribcage.

"Hate to interrupt," he said, kicking out a surprised Shego's knee. "But I can't let you leave with the cats." Shego rolled back from a stomp that almost crushed her face and lunged for him. The new guy dropped down and twisted to the side, placing Shego between him and Kim. Shego threw a punch which he caught on his forearm, twisting his arm as she punched to slip past her guard and launch a high kick into her chin. Shego's head snapped back, but not before she could plant a high heel into his sternum. The boy staggered back a few steps but remained standing. Shego steadied herself and glanced between the two of them, muscles tensed. The new boy touched his chest and studied Shego for a moment before his face broke into an almost evil smirk.

"Oh, this is going to be a fun night." And for the first minute or two it was. Shego fought harder and fiercer than she had in monthes, striking without mercy, taking advantage of even the tiniest drop of Kim's guard. The slightest mistep was followed by a crushing kick or bruising punch. But Kim and the vigilante struck from both sides, coordinating their moves so naturally they never needed to speak. Shego sidestepped Kim's kick and tried to back out from between them, so the new guy leapt around to cut her off and drove her back with a short charge, catching the older woman's leg with crossed arms and pushing the kick over his head, forcing Shego to retreat into Kim's punch. Shego struck him in the shoulder, and Kim used the moment of distraction to sweep her legs out from under her. Shego did and hand-spring and flipped back, breathing heavily.

It looked to be an easy finish until Shego ducked a punch and Kim smashed her fist straight into her new partner's face. Blood splashed into the air, and his nose broke under her fist. Kim and Shego paused for a moment, surprised. The new guy took a step back, glaring at Kim. Without taking his scorching yellow eyes off of her he grabed his nose with both hands and forced it back into place, elliciting another spurt of blood.

"Ooops," Shego said, laughter ringing in her voice as she stepped back, grinning. Kim clenched her fists and scowled, but before she could go after Shego the vigilante darted over to her and landed one on her jaw. Darkness momentarily flooded Kim's vision as she reeled, taking another blow to the gut and barely blocking a devastating kick to the neck.

"Wait," Kim protested, ducking under a punch and rolling away. She turned over her shoulder just in time to see a foot rush for her face.

"That's how you die in a fight," he snarled, blood running into his mouth from his nose as he chased Kim, unrelenting. Kim leapt aside, sprang up, and struck at him. He used her arm as a lever to push himself to the side, slip in close, and kick up. Kim caught his leg and tried to throw him. Instead of resisting, Scorn pushed off with his other leg, twisting as Kim threw him to grab her shirt by the collar and pull her to the floor with him. Kim kicked him away and barely scrambled to her feet as he kicked out, pursuing her.

As they fought, Kim learned a few things about the newcomer. He wasn't as strong or skilled as her, and his training had been a spotty collection of styles, with a definite favor for tiger style kung-fu. He was constantly on the attack, turning any defensive tactic into an opportunity to launch another kick or punch. He was also absolutely brutal. Kim swept out with a high kick, which he ducked under before lunging up and forward, grabbing her raised leg with one arm and ramming his knee into her gut, driving Kim onto the floor.

They tussled, and Kim thought she would have him pinned until he heaved his body over, flipping them and using a sharp shoulder blade to drive her head against the concrete, stunning her long enough for him to flip himself over and rain blows upon her. Kim's arms began to burn from blocking his blows. One of his legs was pressed over her ankle, but she hooked her other leg around his neck and pulled him back, giving her just enough time to sit up before his leg shot out, colliding painfully with her ribs. Kim gasped and rocked back onto her arms, using the leverage to drive both her feet into his head, knocking him back to the hard floor before another double kick to the chest had him rolling away.

The boy stood slowly, and Kim could see that his arms and legs had so many bruises they looked like leopard print. Congealed blood covered the bottom half of his face, but he stood tall and settled himself in a ready position, yellow eyes hard. Kim glared.

"What's it going to take to drop you?" Kim grumbled. His lips twisted into a sneer that was more like a snarl.

"Don't know. Haven't found it yet."

"Kim!" Kim looked over her shoulder and mentally slapped herself. While she and the new guy had been fighting each other, Ron had been fighting the henchmen. In true Ron fashion he had managed to overturn a giant shelf of rejected artifacts on top of both sets of goons and trapped Dr. Dementor all at once. But Shego had attached ropes to the top of the cage. Ron was clinging to Shego's waist on top of the cage trying to slow her down. Shego ripped him off and tossed him aside.

"Don't let us interrupt your date, Kimmy," Shego taunted as the hovercraft rose, taking the cage with it. "You two make a cute couple."

"No," the new guy yelled, snarl deepening. He ran at the cage and leapt for the bottom rung. He might have made it, but Shego's hand burst into green flame and she blasted him in the chest. He crashed to the ground and stared up in shock.

"How…" he whispered, staring at Shego's hand and ignoring his smoking shirt. Kim made a split second and decided Draken and Sheo were more important targets.

"Ron, come on" Kim urged, grabbing his hand. She aimed her hairdryer and fired the grappling hook, latching onto the back of the hovercraft right as the vehicle sped away. She began to reel in the line as soon as her feet were whisked away, blocking out Ron's scream as they zipped through the air. When they reached the hovercraft Kim flipped, using the momentum of the ride up to through herself and Ron onto the back end of the hovercraft. Kim landed on her feet, arms raised to fight. Ron belly-flopped on the smooth back-end of the craft and clung on for dear life, shoes scrabbling for a purchase.

"So, you want to come along for the ride, Kim Possible?" Draken asked with a grin. "Then we'll make sure it's a wild one." Draken jerked the wheel to the left, nearly throwing Kim off the hovercraft. She was forced to fall down and grip the sides with spread arms. Kim glanced over and terror spread through her as Ron's grip slipped so only his finger tips kept him on.

"Ron," Kim gasped, snatching Ron with one hand just before he lost his grip. "Hhhhhhnnn-ah," Kim grunted, hauling her best friend up onto the hovercraft. Kim looked up to see Shego kneeling over her. Draken laughed into the background, still turning the hovercraft hard to left. Shego raised a glowing hand, ready to broil her, when Draken stopped laughing.

"Um, Shego, who's that?" Shego glanced over her shoulder and frowned.

"How did he even get on the roof of - what the heck?" The hovercraft rocked as something hit it before leveling out. Kim took the chance to throw Ron up into the hovercraft's backseat and clamber in herself.

"Circling around like that was not a smart move." Kim glanced up, and her eyes opened wide to see the vigilante crouched on the front of the hovercraft, glaring daggers at Shego. "Tell me how you got those glowing hands." Shego glowered, igniting her other hand.

"You want to know how they work?" Shego asked. "I'll give you a demonstration."

"Yes! Blast him off, Shego," Draken cheered. The vigilante raised one hand with his fingers pressed together, as if to karate chop something.

"No need for a demonstration," he said. "I know the _what_." He narrowed his eyes, and his hand burst into brilliant yellow flames. Kim just stared. He drove his hand through the front of the hovercraft, and black smoke poured through the hole, engine coughing and sputtering. "I want to know the _how_."

"Are you mad!" Draken yelled, clutching his head in both hands. The vigilante lashed out, breaking the front windshield. Draken yelped and ducked down. As Kim stood, she could see a set of scratches along the top of Draken's head. The vigilante's fingertips were bloody.

"Actually, yeah," he said, smirking. The hovercraft began to sink, the cage below swinging wildly.

"Aaaaarrrrr-ooooougggh-ggg," the sabertooths coughed hoarsely. The boy's scowl deepened and he struck out. His fingers left a trail of sparks, furrows springing up across the control board. He glared at Shego and Draken, baring a mouth of yellow teeth.

"Your move," he snarled. Shego glanced over the side and grinned. Kim tensed, knowing that look all too well.

"What do you say we lighten the load, Dr. D.?" She asked. Quick as thought Shego fired a beam of green fire…down over the side of the hovercraft. A burst of light errupted from below, followed by a chorus of screams. Kim looked over and gasped. An old church rose several stories above a collection of small shops at the head of a circular market place. Dust rose as a spire from the church fell onto the roof, and the whole building began to collapse. Without thinking, Kim grabbed Ron and jumped from the hovercraft.

The church was only one story lower than the hovercraft, and Kim hit the crumbling roof in a roll, attaching her grappling hook to a support beam and swinging into the church. Ron landed on the floor butt-first with a loud "Ow!" A quick look told her that the church was empty except for a single woman, curled in the fetal position partially under a fallen angel statue. Kim hoisted her on her shoulders

"Ron, come on!"

"Coming KP," Ron called running as fast as he could for the open doorway. Kim ran as fast as her legs could carry her, sprinting out the door and around the fountain to the other side of the courtyard where she skidded to a stop. Kim lowered the woman to the ground as Ron came to a panting stop next to her, hands on his knees. The woman turned her head, eyes closed, and moaned.

"Ella," she murmured.

"Mommy!" Kim whipped around to see a little girl lying on the ground just outside the church, trying to scramble up as a brick spire fell to earth, draging the rest of the church with it.

"No," Kim yelled, starting to run even though some part of her knew the gap was hopelessly wide. The spire, almost as tall as the courtyard was wide, pointed straight at her as it rushed to crush the life beneath it. Suddenly a figure bounded from within the church, scooping up the child and running a few yards forward, twirling to stare at the collapsing debris. Before Kim could ask what he was doing, the new boy leapt forward, back into the shadow of the rubble with the child in his arms.

"No," Kim whispered, voice drowned by the crunching of stone and splintering wood. A wave of white dust rose and wafted across the courtyard, brushing over Kim like a fine sandpaper mist. She stared, watching the mass of rubble form through the thinning dust cloud. Before she could reconcile her failure, Kim saw an outline rise through the white cloud.

"No, way," Kim whispered, running over. The vigilante stood, little girl still in his arms. Kim stopped about six feet away, wondering how they survived. She looked down and saw that the bricks around him formed an almost ovular pattern. Slowly Kim realized that he had positioned them so that a decorative arch-shaped hole in the spire would fall over them. Kim stayed quiet as the new boy set the girl down, who immediately ran to her mother. People were starting to gather at the edges of the courtyard, murmuring fearfully, but Kim kept her eyes on the boy in front of her.

He still had his back to her, rolling one shoulder around in its socket. His shirt had torn in the back, and Kim could see an ugly glistening purple bruise where a brick had struck him. He glanced over his shoulder at her, and his lips twisted up in a smirk.

"Well that was an eventful four minutes," he said. Kim tried to think of something to say.

"You saved that girl."

"You saved that woman," he countered, feeling his forearm between his thumb and fingers. For some reason the action was very distracting. "What's your point?" A stab of annoyance made its way through Kim's stupor.

"Who are you?" She demanded. He glanced back at her, lips curling a little higher.

"Name's Scorn," he said, picking up one leg and placing it down again as if checking for sprains. "I've heard of you," he continued. "You do good work."

"Uh, thanks," Kim said, caught off guard. She wondered off-handedly where Ron was. "Um, so, sorry for, you know, punching you back there." The apology came out unexpectedly. Kim glanced away, strangely embarrassed. Scorn finally turned to face her completely, rubbing his bruised shoulder. He was still smirking, but the expression was less harsh than before.

"Let's say the blame is fifty-fifty," he proposed. He raised a hand toward her and began to walk away. "A pleasure to meet you." Kim's mind was jolted awake.

"Hold on," she said, jumping forward and grabbing his wrist. "What were you doing here?" His smirk became a little more mischievous.

"I have multiple reasons for everything I do," he said. Kim glared.

"Just what do you think you're planning?" Kim demanded. His eyes gleamed, reflecting the streetlight so that they stood in a tiny yellow pool amidst the dim night.

"I'm more of a improviser," he said, voice smooth as glass. "I live on my instincts. Like this." He whirled toward her, hand rising toward her face. Kim caught his arm, and he twisted his hands in her grasp to seize her wrists and pull her forward. Kim took in a sharp breath.

For a moment she couldn't comprehend the kiss. Then she felt the heat he radiated, the texture of scarred, rough lips pressed against her own, and her hands tightened over his arms. The instinct to drive her foot between his legs was stalled by a warm coil that spread through her body, a reluctant enjoyment of his touch against her mouth. After a second or two he pulled back, his smirk softer but spreading from ear to ear.

"Have a nice night, Kim Possible," he practically purred before backing away and sprinting down an alley. It took Kim all of three seconds to wake up enough to realize that he had gone.

"KP!" Ron called, running over with a ridiculous smile on his face, holding out a yellow box. "The chocolate shop survived!" His smile withered under her death glare.

 _CallMeBeepMeIfYouWantToReachMeCallMeBeepMeIfYouWantToReachMe_

Scorn limped away through the city's alleyways, cursing himself in every language he knew. He had broken his three biggest rules. Never get too close to a woman. Men he could deal with. They were easier to predict. But even the weakest woman was more dangerous than the strongest man. It was a painful lesson puberty had taught him. Yet he had told her his name. Granted, she probably would have figured it out anyway, but he had saved her the time and thus lost time for himself.

Even worse, he had kissed her. He hadn't been lying when he said that was instinct. He knew himself well. Strength of will was universally attractive, even in his most bitter enemies. And this girl had eyes like cast iron. The reports he had read online didn't do her justice. She was an immovable object.

Scorn ducked behind a wall, glancing back around the corner to confirm was wasn't being followed. He tightened the strip of T-shirt wrapped around a cut on his bicep, heart pounding like it hadn't in weeks.

The KGB once described him as an unstoppable force. Apparently when an unstoppable force met an immovable object, they set his blood boiling. He had nearly forgotten the rush of a good fight without gunfire banging through his ears. But he knew he couldn't blame his quickened pulse on the thrill of a fight alone. And that was very, very dangerous. He would have to take a moment and school his thoughts, turn over this emotion until he could extinguish it. But first, he had unfinished business to attend to.

Scorn resumed his prowl through the city, keeping his face turned away from security cameras as he searched for a library. He needed a computer, fast. His lips twisted into the sneer that had earned him his name, sharp teeth exposed to the breeze. No one would experiment on that cat. Not if they wanted to to walk again. He repeated two names over and over in his head. _Dr. Draken and Shego. Shego and Draken. Shego._

He remembered the green fire, it's heat against his chest. The ease with which she kept her hand ablaze. His own hands were uncomfortably hot just thinking about it, sweating in the cool air. His nails itched. He winced, cursing himself again. He had used his power in front of witnesses. All these years of careful concealment might be wasted by a moment of surprise. Soon all of his enemies would know about his Ace-in-the-hole. Scorn set his jaw. He was going to find those two and get his cat back. And maybe he could finally get some answers that he had been waiting eleven long years for.


	3. Criminals of Every Species

And as usual I don't own Kim possible, yadda yadda yadda, this is a fanfiction website, so the disclaimer is really redundant, but whatever

"His name really is Scorn."

Kim was happier than she thought possible to see Wade. It had been over an hour since the pre-teen tech genius signed off to find information on Scorn, and Ron was driving Kim up the wall. He had managed to turn evey conversation they started back around to the Belgian chocolates, and at some point Kim realized that she had managed to go their entire friendship without seriously hurting Ron before, a fact she found incredible at that point.

"Who is he?" Kim asked Wade, holding the Kimmunicator delicately in both hands.

"That's just it, no one really knows," Wade said. Kim frowned. Wade looked like hell. He was twitching, eyes flickering around his room. He spoke a little quietly, like he was afraid of being overheard.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah, it's just…" Wade gulped a bit and took a breath. "There are no public records of this guy, so I checked GJ's system. It was super classified, so I hacked the system. And…well, GJ has really detailed reports."

"Indeed we do." Kim stiffened at the familiar feminine voice. The Kimmunicator's screen split in half. Wade occupied the top half of the screen, and a familiar one-eyed woman glared at Kim from the lower half. "Miss Possible, Mr. Wade, are you aware that this breach of security is a violation of federal and global law punishable by more fifty years of jail time and fines upward of six million U.S. dollars?"

"Ummm…" Wade looked like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar, which would have been really funny if they weren't about to go to prison for the rest of their lives.

"Whoa, time out," Ron said, leaning over Kim's shoulder to address the head of Gobal Justice. "Isn't that a bit, you know, insane?" Dr. Director's expresion hardened. Kim glumly reflected that this was the first time Dr. Director had directed that look at her.

"This material is extremely sensitive. Explain yourselves."

"Um, well, you see, Dr. Director," Kim babbled. "We ran into this guy, Scorn, on our last mission, and -"

"You encountered Scorn?" Dr. Director's demeanor changed instantly. Her whole body stiffened, single eye flying wide, hands darting from around her back to grab the edges of the screen. "Where and when did this happen? Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," Kim assured her, instinctively touching a bruise on her ribs. "No big."

"I'm sorry, Miss Possible, but this is way big," Dr. Director corrected her. "Where and when did you see him?"

"About two hours ago in Belgium," Kim answered slowly. Dr. Director struck the console.

"Damn it. It'll take hours for our nearest opperative to get there. The trail will have run cold." Dr. Director glanced slightly to one side. "I suppose you hacked our system because Kim asked you to find information on Scorn?"

"Yes, uh, maam," Wade said, clearly still worried.

"Our files have been hacked into so many times recently that we set up an alarm to alert us when a sensitive file is breached instead of installing a new firewall." She sighed. "I can't fault you for trying to know more about your enemy. But you must promise me not to engage Scorn without alerting us. Do you understand? If he has indeed returned to Europe, he must have had a very good reason. MI6 and the KGB are probably combing the country for him as we speak. It would be best to stay out of their way."

"Who is this guy?" Kim asked, starting to get a little overwhelmed. She had never seen Dr. Director look so distraught before. The older woman repositioned her hands behind her back, regaining her usual placid composure.

"Scorn is a number of things but primarily a dangerous vigilante. He has a rap sheet so long our printer doesn't hold enough paper to print it. He's been on a warpath of destruction through five continents for the past decade. His target can be anyone from a common rapist to high ranking military officers and commercial CEOs. He moves without pattern, changing countries or even continents at whim. He is also GJ's black spot. Despite our best efforts, our agents haven't so much as slowed him down."

"Okay, that's absolutely terrifying bordering on cool," Ron chimed in. Rufus nodded in agreement from his shoulder, ducking behind Ron's neck as if Scorn were in the room.

Kim didn't quite know what to say. The boy she met had been a little coarse (and a lot presumptuous), but he hadn't seemed evil. Dr. Director watched her for a few seconds and sighed again, closing her eye.

"Keep the data. If you release it publicly I'll be forced to throw you all in a secet GJ pison cell. But you need to be prepared if you encounter him again. Dr. Director, out." The image of Dr. Director blinked out, and Wade filled the screen again.

"Look, Kim, could you read this stuff yourself?" Wade asked slowly. "I started on it and…" Wade trailed away, and Kim saw how shaken he looked. Kim suddenly remembered that Wade was only twelve, and her heart twanged.

"Yeah, I got this one. Just upload it to the Kimmunicator." Wade gave her a thumbs up and signed off.

"Wade looked pretty shaken," Ron said, brows creased in a frown. "What do you think is on there?" The Kimmunicator dinged, signalling that the upload was complete.

"We'll just have to find out." Kim said, and she began to read. Kim kept reading the entire flight home. Surpirse gave way to disgust, then horror, and eventually smoothed out into dread, and something deeper she was reluctant to admit to. At dinner she ate quickly and tried to smile, keeping Scorn out of her description of the mission. Her parents could tell something was wrong, but they didn't push the issue. Kim kept reading into the night, watching the occassional video included in the files.

Through the files she watched a young kid getting into scraps on the street grow tougher, harder, and more aggressive until most of the files were dominated by descriptions of how governments went out of their way to cover up the incriminating evidence he presented to the world against them. Scorn was like a fire, and everywhere he went people were left bloody and broken behind him. Government conspiracies were released annonymously to media personel who vanished within the hour. Business tycoons hastily reversed inhumane decisions from their hospital beds. Hundreds of common criminals had been traumitized and scarred. Multiple laceration wounds crippled some of the crueler offenders. And still his record of offense carried on in the same emotionless legal jargon that Gobal Justice recorded their files in. Not once did anyone mention glowing hands. Kim wondered if maybe she had been imagining that.

Kim rubbed her eyes and looked at the closk. 2:34 a.m. She'd been reading for so long green spots blossomed in the dark room. She glanced down at the Kimmunicator. She considered picking up again tomorrow and getting some sleep, but Kim hated leaving any task unfinished. If she was honest with herself, Kim was a dangerous perfectionist. She clicked on the next video, which was of a much higher quality than the others.

The Kimunicator screen switched to a shaky feed from a news camera. Big guys in official-looking uniforms armed to the teeth ran around a massive warehouse-type building ringed in twenty foot fence topped with razor wire. The camera crew were being pushed back by silent soldiers. An officer was shouting orders that the Kimunicator needed to subtitle for her.

"We have him pinned down, sir."

"How soon can we storm the building?"

"We're loading tear gas projectiles now."

"We move in in one minute."

"Sir, may I ask what this place is exactly?"

"Textiles plant. We move in thirty seconds."

"Sir, the doors are opening."

Kim watched as the ten-foot double doors swung outward. The camera zoomed in on the figure who had pushed them open. Scorn stood tall in the center of the doorway, light spilling out around him and cloaking his silhouette in shadows. His eyes gleamed hard yellow, the only recognizable feature in the dark. Soldiers turned dozens of automatic weapons on him, shouting for him to get down. Scorn didn't so much as breathe as far as Kim could see. From behind him more figure gathered, so short that they barely reached his ribs. Kim's breath fogged the screen as she watched children bunching around his legs, clinging to him. With a wave of his hand and a few words, spoken so softly Kim couldn't hear, he sent them out.

They emerged slowly at first, little feet quickly gaining speed until the children were sprinting, screams of pure delight tearing from their throats. The oldest couldn't have been more than ten, and every last child was thin enough that their ribs were outlined by threadbare shirts. Their fingers visibly bled even from a distance, but their laughter was beautiful as they mobbed toward the astonished police and military. The children stopped short just before the gathered adults, flinching away as doubt set in. An officer saw this and reached out, pulling a little boy toward her.

Soon all of the soldiers and police were passing the children through, bewildered whispers rising until someone shouted a warning. Scorn had taken a step backward into the building. Soldiers retrained their guns on him, ignoring the kids' frightened cries to stop, shoving them off when they tried to tug their arms down. Scorn carefully reached down and behind the door. Laser sights peppered Scorn's chest as he dragged a man out from behind the wall. The man was a bloodied, beaten mess, the solitary sign of life being the gnarled fingers that weakly scratched the fist around his throat. Scorn raised the man up and heaved him in front of himself, taking a smooth step back and closing the doors before his latest victim could drop to the ground. The camera shook violently as soldiers shoved past, firing tear gas at the upper story windows, guns blazing at the concrete bunker they were intent on turning into a death trap.

The video cut off there. Kim read the short description. A textile plant was using kidnapped children to make their products. Some of the kids had been held prisoner for years. The men and women running the plant had been found beaten and bloody. Scorn had evaded capture after badly wounding nearly a dozen soldiers and eight local police officers. The media coverage of the event had been disposed of, and the media personel sworn to secrecy.

Kim put down the Kimmunicator, troubled by what she had read. What happened to the kids was wrong, but did it justify such a violent reponse? Part of her, a bigger part than she'd like to admit, said yes. But if that was the case, why would Scorn be on the run from basically every law enforcement agency in existence? Kim had never gotten any flak from the police, and she knew she was doing the right thing. By the time Kim had finished reading GJ's files, she had no answers. She wasn't even sure if she wanted to ask the questions.

 _CallMeBeepMeIfYouWantToReachMeCallMeBeepMeIfYouWantToReachMe_

Draken pouted as he mixed chemicals in a beaker, glancing every few seconds not-so-subtly over at the test tubes Professor Dementor was examining next to him. Dr. Dmentor caught him and glared pointedly. Draken whipped back to his own work, grumbling. Dementor huffed, then leaned all the way over until his head was practically under Draken's hand to look at what his blue-skinned rival was doing. Draken glared and grumbled, prompting Dementor to pull away sharply.

"Remind me again why you invited him over?" Draken whined at Shego.

"Because you two are working on exactly the same project and Kim Possible has a new sidekick." Shego reminded her boss, patience wearing thin on her fourth iteration of this speech. "We barely got away from them when we were together last time. Neither of you would last ten seconds alone."

"Nuh uh," Draken and Dementor chorused.

"At least we escaped with the cats," Draken pointed to the cage in the corner, where the sabertooths glowered from their cage. "I wasn't captured by the buffoon."

"At least I was not stupid enough to try and take a toxin sample without uzing a tranquilizer dart first." Dementor shot back.

"Rrrr," Draken began, but a loud beeping interrupted him. Shego leaned over a console and turned back to the two scientists with a dark grin.

"We have company, boys."

 _CallMeBeepMeIfYouWantToReachMeCallMeBeepMeIfYouWantToReachMe_

"Alright, let's sneak in through the secret entrance at the base of the mountain," Kim said as she stuck her snowboard upright in the powdery drift a few hundred feet from Draken's Belgian mouintain lair.

"It's sad how there's no more secrets after all these times we've fought Draken," Ron lamented. "You'd think he'd go that extra villainous mile for us."

"Ron, shh!" Kim hushed. They crept around a bend toward the rock face where Draken's lair was hidden only to see someone else was already there. Kim thrust out her arm to keep Ron from walking past her, trying to maintain the element of surprise, but it was too late.

"I wondered if I'd be seeing you here," Scorn said with a glance over his shoulder, golden eyes as bright as the sun reflecting off the snow. "Although I thought you would have gotten here sooner." Kim approached him cautiously. After everything she'd seen and heard, Kim wasn't sure whether or not he was an enemy. Scorn's eyes flicked down to her lips. A smile snaked across his mouth. Kim did her best to roast him alive with a glare. Scorn's lips twitched, but he tactfully returned his gaze to hers and dipped his head, acquiescing to her unspoken demand. Kim paused, surprised by the chivalrous submission.

"Uh, dude, how'd you find Drakken's lair?" Ron asked, oblivious. Scorn stepped back from the rock face he'd been inspecting. He only wore an old, ragged coat over his previous clothes, but if the cold bothered him, he didn't show it.

"I went to the local library and read everything I could find online about Drakken." He explained. "The location of his lair was included with most of the articles. The nearest known location to the museum that I could find was here." Scorn shrugged and made a small half-smile. Just for a moment, Kim had the eerie feeling that she had seen that shark-like grin, but the neither-friendly-nor-angry smirk vanished as soon as it had appeared. "If your presence is anything to go on, I'm right on my first try."

"You know, he's not bad," Ron told Kim. "I mean a little rough around the edges, but he's got the bad guy hunting stuff down." Ron hadn't read Scorn's bio, but Kim cringed. Another predatory smirk danced on Scorn's lips.

"What do you want with those cats?" Kim asked, trying to stay focused. Scorn's expression darkened.

"Let's just say we go way back. I also don't like the idea of anyone with access to chemical weaponry like that, especially not deranged terrorists." He added before Kim could ask if he could be any more cryptic.

"I think Drakken falls under the 'mad scientist' category," Ron amended. Scorn snorted.

"Figures. Terrorists are too easy to stop," he grumbled. Then, addressing Kim, "So, are you going to try to stop me, or are you going to help me get in?" Kim's temper flared a bit, and instantly her mind felt sharper.

"Uh, no. But if you drop the attitude, _you_ can help _me_ stop Drakken and Shego, and then I'll decide what to do with you." Kim snapped, in neither her smartest nor politest move, but Scorn smirked. There was less bite in this smile and more dark amusement. The expression sent a shiver up Kim's spine that she couldn't blame on the cold.

"Alright," he said, eyes latched onto hers. "Lead the way."

 _CallMeBeepMeIfYouWantToReachMeCallMeBeepMeIfYouWantToReachMe_

Kim found the secret entrance and lead the boys into Drakken's lair with their usual ease. When they made it halfway across a darkened open space, Kim was expecting the lights to flash on. She was expecting the henchmen ringing the perimeter and the steel doors to slide shut. She was expecting Drakken and Shego to be standing on a raised platform. What she was not expecting was Dementor's presence next to Drakken nor his minions standing alongside Drakken's goons. Scorn was expecting none of this and whipped his head around, hands raised to attack, eyes scouring the hench-people.

"Kim Possible," The two 'doctors' chorused.

"Dementor?" Kim and Ron chorused.

"You!" Scorn spat at Shego.

"Ooh, look, Kimmy brought her new friend." Shego purred.

"With my new serum-" Drakken began until Shego cuffed him around the head.

"Yeah, what did we say about revealing our plans?" Shego reprimanded.

"Don't you mean our plan?" Dementor inquired. Shego whacked him around the head and leapt to the floor.

"Let's just destroy Kim Possible and her sidekicks so we can get on with the latest conquering the world scheme."

"Nrr, very well," Drakken grumbled. "Henchmen, attack!" Drakken's henchmen bared staffs glowing with purple fire. Dementor's thugs cracked their knuckles. Kim and Ron stepped closer together. Drakken had at least twenty five people, Dementor half that. Plus Shego.

"Not very good odds," Ron echoed Kim's thoughts.

"Not for them," Scorn said. With a growl he launched himself at the goons, seizing one of Dementor's gray-suited lackey's and bringing a hard knee up into his jaw. A blow beneath the ribs and a kick to the side of the head sent two hundred pounds of expensive hired help crashing to the floor.

"Not particularly stylish, but effective," Shego commented with a dismissive flick of her hand. Scorn sneered and attacked the minions head-on. Kim grabbed Ron around the waist and fired her grappling hook up into the rafters. Kim clicked a button, and the dynamic duo whizzed upward. Kim had planned on leaving Ron in the rafters to sneak around and down to take out any devices the mad scientists might have prepared, but a green ball of fire severed the line. Fortunately, Drakken's lair had the usual system of catwalks above the floor, and Kim manged to twist and pull them both onto a low walkway. Shego leapt onto the catwalk with almost unnatural agility and rushed them, smiling a Chesire smile.

"Ron, run," Kim told him, giving him a shove back and leaping to the side. Shego's nails left claw marks through the opposite railing the catwalk floor. She spun and kicked at Kim, who caught the blow on the side of her arm, pushed off the rail to flip up and over Shego before sweeping the older woman's legs out from under her. Shego hit the catwalk hard and sprang to her feet just in time for Kim's leg to connect with her ribs. As Shego fell she reached out and grabed Kim's leg, pulling her down too. Both women hit the floor hard, but Shego managed to turn the impact into a roll. Kim felt the jolt throuh her shoulder and knew that it would leave a bruise. The two women stood and faced each other, thouroughly ticked.

"You should pay more attention, Kimmy," Shego mocked sweetly. "Don't want you getting hurt now, would we?" A fist connected with the side of Shego's head, quickly followed by a knee to the gut and jaw before she was kicked aside.

"Follow your own advice," Scorn growled around a rather spectacular bruise that covered most of his lower jaw. His shirt was torn, and a cut above his eye flared scarlet, but otherwise he seemed okay. Shego staggered to her feet and glared daggers at him. Scorn gave her the now familiar sneer in return. "I've got some questions for you, lady."

"Mind if I talk with my hands?" Shego asked, palms bursting into acid green fire. Scorn caught her outstretched hands in his own, pulling Shego into him and smashing his knee under her ribs as he rolled back, flinging Shego away.

"Not at all." Scorn charged after her, wisps of smoke drifting from his hands. Before Kim could get over her surprise and join in she heard an all too familiar cry for help. In true Ron fashion, her sidekick had demolished half the lab equipment in the room. Several henchmen lay passed out on the floor from falling beakers and microscopes. But Ron now stood pressed into a corner, Rufus cowering on his shoulder.

Kim hurled herself at the henchmen, punching a nose on her left, sweeping out a pair of legs in front of her and kicking a chin behind her in the same motion. Two beefy arms grabbed her around the midsection and Kim snapped her legs out in a perfect split, striking two foreheads before heaving her entire body back, overtoppling her captor and rolling gracefully to her feet. She fought on autopilot with only one goal: distract the thugs from Ron. But for every goon she downed, two more seemed to take his place. Fists stinging, side spasming, thick mane of hair matted with sweat, Kim was forced to back toward the middle of the room. Scorn staggered back into her, breaths ragged. A set a ugly claw marks shone a violent red on his shoulder, the edges singed so that he smelled like the cafeteria on goulash day (a revelation that disturbed her on multiple levels).

"Finish them, Shego," Drakken yelled. Shego stalked forward carefully, one hand holding her abdomen, death written on her face.

"With pleasure." Shego hurled a line of green fire at them. Hemmed in by minions, Kim dropped to the floor. Scorn snarled and slashed his hand through the fire. For a moment the flames flared a lighter shade of green, like grass that had just begun to die, before he waved his hand back and dispersed them. Kim stared at his hand in shock. It was a little red but not nearly as burned as it should be. Shego was absolutely floored.

"Interesting." Scorn said, flexing his hand. He looked up, and though Kim couldn't see his face she could almost feel the smirk pop up. "Your big trick is useless." Shego glowered and readied herself to fight, hands lighting up once more.

"Then I guess I'll have to beat you down instead," Shego threatened. Scorn dropped into a fighter's stance. Kim was planning how to get Ron to safety and help her new ally when the Kimmunicator rang. Fortunately the minions seemed distracted by the brawl that was taking place and had moved only to form a loose ring around Shego and the Possible group.

"Make it quick, Wade," Kim said when her friend's face blinked on.

"Kim, I just ran a test on Scorn's DNA." Kim hadn't seen Wade this animated in weeks, and she felt a brief thrill of fear. "He's Shego's son! And yes, I double checked. Four times." Kim stared at the Kimmunicator, not hearing the next few sentences Wade said as her brain tried to wrap around those words. A grunt snapped Kim's attention to the fight in front of her.

Scorn staggered back, shaking his head. Shego punched him in the gut, hard, and spun to the right on her left leg, intending to bring her right heel around in a dramatic finish. Scorn grabbed her leg and pulled it past him so that Shego stumbled, off-balance and facing away from him. Scorn smashed his fists into either side of her head, kicked out her knee, and snapped his foot up between her shoulder blades. Shego staggered away from him and swept out behind her with a burning hand, forcing Scorn to slow his attack, allowing Shego to face him and drop to a crouch.

"You're good, kid," Shego praised. "Unfortunately two meddling kids and a rodent is already more than I want to deal with." Shego raised her hand, and the glow intensified in preparation for a final blow. Kim's brain snapped back into gear, and she ran forward.

"Shego, wait," Kim yelled. "He's your son!" Scorn and Shego stepped back and stared at her. The ferociously scarry thing at that moment: she could see the resemblance. They had the same lean body and had curled their lips in identical expressions of derision during the fight. Scorn's victims had been slashed, similar to the claw marks Shego left in his shoulder. He was able to redirect her fire; Kim hadn't been imagining that last time. Scorn wasn't just tan; his skin was tinted champagne yellow, just like Shego's was mint green.

"What?" Scon asked, blinking repeatedly.

"Yeah, I don't think so," Shego said.

"Wade just ran a test on his DNA," Kim responded. "Four times."

"Positive maternal match evey time," Wade called from the Kimmunicator.

"Shego, is this true?" Drakken asked, eyes wide and hands clutching his head.

"What, no," Shego shook her head. "I don't have a son."

"Are you sure?" Professor Dementor asked.

"Uh, I think I would remember something like that," Shego snarked back.

"Good, now back to business-" Drakken began.

"Well, now that I think about it, I did give birth that one time."

"Say what now?" Drakken stuttered.

"But that couldn't be him," Shego dismissed. "I went to some super remote, really poor village to give birth so that I wouldn't have to hear from it again." Kim flinched at Shego calling her child it, but Scorn spoke first.

"This village, was it by any chance in the Amazon rainforest, somewhere around seventeen years ago?"

"I think so," Shego mused. "I remember being glad to get away from the mosquitoes on my way back to Go City. Or was it – no, no it was the Amazon. Why, were you…" Shego trailed off when Scorn nodded grimly. "…oh. Okay, that's a surprising coincidence." Her hand reignited. "Doesn't change anything."

"Whoa whoa whoa," Ron interrupted, pushing through bewildered henchmen with his hands held in a **T**. "Who's the dad?"

"A) none of you business. B) He tried to stop me from getting an abortion using the words 'I won't let you,' and after a fight, I killed him." Ron gaped.

"Oooookay, really hope you're joking." Ron's voice came out as a whimper. Kim felt frozen, watching the drama play out around her. Shego rolled her eyes, annoyed.

"It was years ago. Like I'm going to remember every fling. I only kept that lump of morning sickness around long enough to give birth on a dare."

"Dude, I'm sorry, but I think you dodged a seriously dysfunctional bullet here," Ron said to an increasingly confused Scorn. Ron held out his arms. "Want a bad news hug?"

"Ron," Kim hissed.

"I agree mit the sidekick," Professor Dementor chimed in. "About the bad muther, not the hug. Now can we please get back to the destroying?" Dementor pressed a button, and laser cannons popped out from all over the wall. Four of his gray-suited guards led in a pair of dachshunds the size of elephants, foam flying from their lips as they barked. Dementor pulled down a curtain behind him, revealing a cage with the sabertooths in it, probably for some dramatic and unnecessary plan-sharing.

"With pleasure," Shego agreed, much more enthusiastic now that they were back to wailing on Kim.

"Shego, wait, if he's your son then we can't just-"

"Watch me," Shego snapped over her shoulder. In her moment of distraction Scorn drove his fist under her ribcage and fired a short jab under her chin.

"Happy Mother's Day." He sneered. Shego stepped away, reared back, and brought down a burning hand, forcing him to step back. The three teens stood back-to-back, winded and surrounded.

"Do you trust me," Scorn asked out of the corner of his mouth.

"No." Kim answered truthfully.

"Smart girl." He replied. Scorn's right hand steamed and burst into a cloud of yellow fire. Kim started but Scorn hurled his arm at the ledge where Drakken and Dementor stood. Unlike Shego's dense balls, his blast took the form of a long, thin curve of looser flames, like a crescent of vaporized gold. Drakken and Dementor shrieked and ducked. The deadly arc sailed over their heads and sizzled against the sabertooths' cage. Drakken looked up from under his arms.

"Hah, you missed!"

Scorn smirked. He raised his hand, and Kim sucked in a breath. His hand and wrist were a deep red, and the skin was smoking, little flakes sloughing off. Scorn pointed at the cage, and the villains tensed. Slowly, they turned to look behind them. For a few seconds everything was still and quiet save for the hum of charged laser and the growl of mutant weiner dogs. Then a soft breeze curled through the lab, and the cage door opened the tiniest bit with a soft _crreeeak_.

The sabertooths hesitantly reached out to paw the door. Slowly, steps jerky and unsure, they pushed through the door, useless now that the lock was cleanly sliced in half, and stood, trembling from many long days of cramped quarters. Then, they did what any predators that had been ripped from their home and forced into a tiny cage would do: they focused on the loudest thing in the room, panicked, and jumped it. The dachshunds had the misfortune of being the outlet of their aggression, and in the moment those cats roared and launched themselves over the frozen people to sink their talons in those poor dogs' hide unadultered pandamonium ensued.

Scon used the distraction to lunge for Shego again, and Shego pulled away with a hiss, angry red scratches already bledding across her collarbone. Ron threw his hands up into the air and ran, yelling like a chicken without its head. The remaining henchmen, already disoriented and afraid, panicked and scattered, giving Kim time to rummage around in her bag. She pulled out the small, circular container just as Scorn fell back from Shego. He spat out a clot of blood and positioned himself between the enraged supervillain and Kim.

"I hope you have a plan," he asked without looking at her.

"I plan to finally vaporize Kim Possible with my home laser security system," Drakken butted in, holding a square remote above his head. Drakken slammed a finger on the lone red button, and the lasers along the wall hummed to life before sparking, seizing, and fizzing out with plumes of smoke. "Uh?"

"Oh yeah," Rufus cheered from a control panel behind Draken, pumping a double fistful of wires in the air. The naked mole rat ran between Draken and Dementor to find Ron. Kim took advantage of Shego's surprise to kick her onto her back. Shego hit the groud with a loud _oomph_ , took a look around, and saw that there was nothing left to salvage from her boss's latest failure.

"Dr. D, we're outta here," the mercenary yelled, rolling to her feet and jumping onto the ledge Drakken stood on. Kim fired her grappling hook at the wall above them, but Shego blew the hook aside with a fireball before it could connect to the wall. As the villains retreated through a closing steel hatch, Drakken turned around and pointed a dramatic finger in the air only for Shego to yank him back. Kim started to run after them, but she heard Ron yell out behind her.

"Kim, I got Dementor."

Kim whirled around to see that Ron had in fact caught the second scientist. Ron staggered crazily with his arms around Dementor's waist. The diminuitive German was kicking his legs, waving his arms, and screaming at the top of his lungs, but in his anger Dementor's accent had grown so thick that Kim honestly wasn't sure if he was still speaking English.

"Ron," Kim called and she ran toward him. They had been beating bad guys for so long that Ron instantly knew what the plan was. The second Kim fired her grappling gun he let Dementor go and stepped back. When the grapple had traveled past Dementor Kim heaved it to the side, pulling its momentum in a circle. As the grapple made a full circle Kim ran around Dementor in the opposite direction, circling him several times as she reeled in the grapple. Before he knew it Dementor was thoroughly tied up in several coils of flexible steel.

"Way to go, Ron," Kim beamed, turning to her stricken friend. Ron's pale face, now bleached further and beaded with sweat, was frozen save for a tick in his eyebrow. Disturbed, Kim followed his line of sight and froze herself. The larger of the two sabertooths stood no more than three inches away from Scorn and was slowly advancng. Scorn slid back at the exact same speed, muscles loose, back of his hand hanging before the cat's red muzzle. The mutant dashchunds lay behind them in a scarlet kiddy pool. Kim was scrambling for a plan to save him when a few soft words ghosted to her ears.

"Huh, good…you remember…what a big boy…my little…such a sweet…" Kim stared, dumbstruck, as the sabertooth's fur slowly laid flat, ears and tail gradually rising. Scorn slowed to a careful rest. The great cat held its parted jaws next to his hand, venomous saliva stretching pink between barely visible teeth, before emitting a quick, low cough and butting its skull against Scorn's chest. Scorn smiled and continued murmuring to the beast, scratching the thick shoulder fur.

The smaller cat, a female, Kim thought, had been circling around Scorn and froze when she saw her mate rubbing his jaw along his side. She snarled and advanced with raised hackles, only for the male to intervene. Scorn lowered himself to a crouch, met her eyes, blinked, and turned his head away, repeating the process as he inched toward her, careful to keep the male nearby. After several extremely tense minutes, the female lowered her head to sniff him, and sat down looking in the opposite direction. The male, sensing the crisis was over, relaxed and lay down next to his mate to wash blood out of his fur.

Scorn eased himself up, backing away slowly until he stood next to Kim. Kim noticed that all of the henchmen had fled. She debated whether that was a good or bad thing.

"Told you we go way back," Scorn whispered. Icy fingers danced up Kim's spine. Something about hearing his voice, spoken to her in that impossibly soft hiss, made her shiver.

"Mind sharing," she whispered back. He stared at the cats, a softer smile playing on his lips. Kim noticed that they were crisscrossed with thin white scars.

"I lived like a wild child in the Amazon for a year. Spent most of that time following his parents, scavenging their kills." Scorn gestured to the male. "When he was a cub a saved him from a camain. After that he and his parents were perfectly friendly toward me so long as I didn't hang around for too long. I decided to gamble that he would remember me and care enough to keep the girl from killing me. And now the question arises: what will you do about me?" Scorn glanced at her out of the corner of his eyes, smirking again. Kim noticed that he kept his muscles lax and decided to avoid any sudden movements. Ron, Dementor, and Rufus were still petrified. Seeing what those animals had done to Dementor's dogs, Kim couldn't blame them.

"You're a criminal," Kim whispered.

"True. But does that necessarily mean I'm evil? Even if you think it does, we're caught in a stalemate. Either one of us attacks, and those cats will panic and kill all of us. So allow me to make a proposition."

"I'm listening."

"A trust exercise. I trust you to make sure that these cats go straight back to the Amazon. Mankind isn't ready for them yet, and now that people know they exist that area of rainforest can receive improved protection. You trust me when I say that I don't want to be your enemy and that I never have nor will stoop low enough to kill." Kim tensed at the last word, and the cats responded, heads whipping around to face them. Kim forced herself to relax, and the sabertooths slowly eased back.

"Just because you draw a line doesn't make you a good guy," Kim told him. "You don't have the authority to go around attacking people."

"Neither do you," he shot back. "I may not have a sparkling track record, but every person I hit has directly attacked, killed, crippled, mentally scarred, or dehumanized a defenseless innocent. I never strike without clear, observable evidence."

"Even if I did believe you, you still don't have the right to do this," Kim told him, dangerously close to losing her cool.

"You're right." Kim blinked, thrown. She had expected denial. "But you teamed up with me anyway. Do you really think I'm all bad?" Scorn smirked and slowly edged toward the door. "I'll leave now. I'll watch what happens with these two closely. I hope that the next time we meet is under more friendly circumstances; but until then, good night and farewell, Kim Possible." Scorn slipped out the door, movements as smooth as the purr in his voice. Kim stared after him, unbalanced and oddly flushed until. Ron tapped her on the shoulder.

"Kim, you ok?" He asked, glancing between her and the sabertooths.

"I don't know," she murmured. Then, more clearly, "I'll get Wade to call GJ once we locked the cats in here; they can take Dementor to jail and these two to the rainforest." After they had inched their way out of the room, Dementor chuckled. Even he had recognized the danger those animals had posed and had remained silent until now. When Kim glanced down at him, he was grinning like a fool beneath his helemt.

"He vas very handsome, no? Yeeeow!"

Shoes with rocket skates were exceptionally hard.

The tactic Scorn uses to calm the sabertooths is a slight variation on a technique I used to aid in training jaguars. Do not attempt it by yourself. Wild animals are very dangerous, and Scorn's success with an animal that has very little knowledge of people is why this is FICTION.


End file.
